Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

Approaching carefully, Colin eased the door open the rest of the way. Even though he wasn't exactly scared, chill bumps marred his arms when the hinges squeaked. He peeked inside, and the familiar white curtains that hung through the entire house rustled from the breeze wafting in through the open window. Racing across the landing, Colin opened the other two doors and checked inside, finding curtains blowing in open windows in each of them too.

After shutting the door to the final room he checked, Colin moved across the hallway and stopped at the top of the stairs. He looked down and all around and rubbed the arch of his foot over his calf, experiencing the tingle that had already become as much a part of him as breathing. Nothing felt wrong or heavy; the house didn't seem distressed. It felt…content.

“Marek?” Colin called down from where he stood. Squeezing his eyes shut, hating that he deliberately exposed himself to mockery, he asked, “Did you open the windows in the extra bedrooms?”

“Yes, I did.” Marek's voice carried back to him. “I do it once a week in the rooms I don't use, just to let some air in. Why?”

“Nothing. No reason.” Colin's face burned, even though he stood by himself. “Sorry I bothered you. Go back to work.”

What did you think, idiot? That Beatrice or Stewart's ghost manifested and opened them? Or maybe the house did it itself?

Colin rolled his eyes and walked back to the open bedroom door. Reaching in to grab the knob, light from the hallway and open window cut two swaths across the empty space and almost entirely lit up the room. A door Colin hadn't noticed before caught his attention and drew him inside to investigate. It butted up against Marek's bedroom wall, and Colin guessed it held another small bathroom that matched Marek's.

Moving inside just to check, Colin twisted and pulled on the knob and had to tug the swollen wood away from the door frame with a little extra muscle. The door finally released, but instead of a bathroom, Colin found a couple square feet of real estate. When he stepped inside and did a right face military turn, he looked directly at a bare bones set of stairs. He could see the unfinished red-toned slats of wood for a handful of steps, but it grew increasingly darker the rest of the way up, into deeply shadowed darkness.

“Holy mother.” Colin felt around along the wall, searching for a light switch. It has to be an attic. He turned in a circle, using his eyes to look for something that would trip a light, but could find nothing. Damn.

Wait. Colin ran out of the room and into Marek's, forewent the flashlight he knew was in the nightstand, and skidded to a stop at the man's bookshelf. Lifting his arms all the way up, his fingers caught on one of two lanterns he had noticed the other night; he pulled it down from where it sat on top of the bookshelf and examined its modern design. He immediately found a switch on the bottom, flipped it, and a bluish white bulb glowed straight up and down from the center of the glass enclosure. “Yes, I thought so.” When Colin spotted it the other night, he had thought it looked too modern to be an antique oil lamp or something just for decoration.

A very practical man lives in the body of my Marek.

Kissing the enamel-covered top in victory, Colin raced back to the second bedroom and, with light now in hand, carefully climbed the stairs. They didn't groan or squeak in the slightest, but dust did puff up, and particles danced in the beam of light. Colin reached the top and emerged from the floor into a cavernous room. Holding his lantern aloft, he moved around the room with slanted ceilings, where lines of open beams cut from one side of the space to the other. He paused at a darkened round window sitting high on the back wall of the house and ran his fingers over the glass, coming away with dust but no streak of sunlight for his effort. The buildup of muck was clearly on the outside. Everywhere Colin shifted or pointed his lantern, a circle of light put a spotlight on a large, open, completely empty room.

No secrets up here.

“Damn.” Colin coughed as he breathed in a layer of dust. He inhaled, and his throat and nostrils filled with more grit. Moving back to the window, he stood on his toes, grabbed at a handle on the frame, and pulled. It didn't budge. Colin put down his lantern, used both hands, and with strength and clenched teeth, the handle released with a screech. The round window protested but shifted, opening inward a bit at a time, slowly letting in daylight, until it opened as much as it would go and fresh air breezed into the attic. “There.” With his face up to the window, he sucked in clean air. “That's better.” Colin turned and was about to swing his hand down to grab the lantern when a band of light flickered over the edge of the beam closest to the window, and the sight of a small bundle tucked in at the edge stopped his heart.

“What the hell?” Colin moved closer and raised his arm as high as he could, but his fingers didn't quite reach the beam.

No way am I leaving whatever that is up there.

He backed up a dozen feet or so away from the beam, gave himself a running start and leaped in the air, smacking his hand up against the wood as high as he could. His palm knocked the bundle with a solid hit, and it crashed to the floor with a thud. Dropping to his knees, Colin touched his fingers over the soft leather of a satchel that looked to be no more than eight by eight in size. He turned it over and noticed